Poem (17): There's a man in black who's waiting at the gate

 This is another villanelle. I suppose it's about a man.

There's a man in black who's waiting at the gate

The man in black’s still standing at the gate.

You warned us he’d be there and he’s still there.

The demon you compelled us to create

 

was not identified until too late.

So many still can’t walk past the place where

the man in black’s still standing at the gate.

 

A doctrine of god’s love has turned to hate -

there’s not one with forgiveness left to spare

the demon you compelled us to create.

 

Oh, you, you’ve had your reckoning, your fate

is, of itself, agreeable and fair.

The man in black’s still standing at the gate,

 

though, waiting for the ones you’d separate

and celebrate, and order not to share

the demon you compelled us to create.

 

The narrative you’d nervelessly dictate

will never free the ones you did ensnare.

The man in black’s still standing at the gate -

the demon you compelled us to create.